


Deja Vu All Over Again

by TW Lewis (gardendoor)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-06
Updated: 1999-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardendoor/pseuds/TW%20Lewis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al is caught in a time loop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu All Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda, you know who owns 'em. This story's got good, honest lovin' between two adult men. If that makes you uncomfortable, go back now.

The candy machine made rhythmic clinks as Al savagely shoved his coins home. Exactly enough for a pack of m&m’s. He pushed the buttons, heard the machine purr as it accepted his money. He waited for the spiral to turn and deliver the sack of candy. Nothing happened. He kicked it with no result. He got down on his knees, shoved his hand into the slot, and tried to fish out a piece of candy. As he thrust his hand in here, he felt a sudden ripping sting, and withdrew his hand with a hiss. A dirty, bloody scrape had ripped his arm and sleeve from wrist to elbow. He used every curse word he could think of, kicking the machine as hard as he could, leaping up to grab the top, trying to overturn it, smash it, anything.

Large, solid hands caught his shoulders, soothing him. Al struck out blindly and felt his fist connect with flesh and bone. It was then that he came back to himself and saw the young man in front of him, rubbing his bruised jaw. Al suddenly realized that tears of hysteria were soaking his cheeks, and his throat was hoarse from shouting. Awkwardly, he pulled away. “I’m sorry I hit you. It was an accident. You okay?”  


  
The young man ignored him for a second, wincing as he grinned and stared at the overturned candy machine. “Now that is one candy machine that will never bother us again.”

“Yeah, well, I was just doing my job, saving the world from evil, change-eating candy machines.” Al was pretty sure his face was scarlet. This was not the way he had wanted to introduce himself.

“Let me see,” the young man offered. He reached for Al’s injured arm, examined it. “Come over here.” He led Al into the bathroom across the hall and washed the stinging cut in the sink, dabbing it with cold, wet paper towels. “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Beckett.”

“I know,” Al’s breath caught in his throat. The hazel eyes, the unnatural white streak of hair, exactly the way he remembered. But this Sam was younger, just beginning his life. “I’m Al.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Sam chuckled, taking Al’s hand out of the ice bath and drying it gently with more paper towels. He stretched his sore jaw whenever he thought Al wasn’t looking. Visibly embarrassed to bring up the incident in the corridor, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Al closed his eyes, feeling the strong, warm fingers on his stinging arm. “I just got a letter from my wife -- my ex-wife, I mean.”  


  
“You want to talk about it?” Sam asked quietly.

“She and her husband just had another kid. That makes two girls and a boy.” He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Sam’s pity. Back in Nam, Sam made two predictions: that Beth would have moved on when Al got back, and that Sam would be more than willing to take Beth’s place, if Al could be patient, wait to meet the younger Sam. After a while, Al had grown tired of waiting. And two days ago, when he’d realized that young Sam didn’t know anything about that time in Vietnam, he’d grown tired of hoping. He had no idea how to make the eager, straight young genius fall in love with him. He had even less of a clue of how to compete with Donna Elesee.

“I’m sorry,” Sam murmured. “Bad divorce?”

“I was in Nam. MIA. After a while, she thought I was dead and moved on. I came home and she’d already remarried.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam repeated.

“Not your fault.” Al started laughing, crying, at the thought of how far things were from being Sam’s fault. He felt strong arms around him, awkwardly holding him steady, and he was ready to die over the sweetness of it.

“You’re drunk,” Sam suddenly realized. Al wondered what tipped him off. Probably the smell of cheap Scotch. “Come on, follow me.” Al wasn’t even sure where they were going until Sam pushed him onto the couch in Al’s office. “You need some sleep, all right?”

“That’s not what I need,” Al mumbled. Still, he was tired and hurt, and it seemed like the best option. But one thought forced its way to the surface as he drifted off. “Sam? Please, promise me you’ll wait before going after Donna.” He lost his hold on reality before he could hear the answer.

After work the next day, Al stopped Sam on the way out. “I’ve heard about your theories of time travel, Sam. But I don’t understand how you’re going to get over some of the problems.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, and his body seemed to straighten, expand. “You want to hear my theories?”

“Yeah, isn’t that what I said?”  


  
Now Sam’s face lit up and he quickened his pace, accidentally forcing Al to hurry to keep up. “Well, the first and most obvious problem is the time travel itself, so that was the last thing I tackled. I started with the radium ring accelerator...”

Three hours later, back in Sam’s room, the young doctor was still going strong. In the three years he’d known Sam in Vietnam, Al had seen Sam’s kindness, his courage. Now he saw a completely different side of Sam: his genius, ambition, innocence. It was as though they were twins separated at birth. It was the strangest feeling of deja vu.

Al couldn’t stop himself. It had been twelve years. He reached out a hand and began stroking the back of Sam’s neck. He felt warm, solid muscle, soft, prickly hair, the resistance of bone and energy. The younger man didn’t even notice at first, so wrapped up was he in his exposition. Al felt like the entire world was balanced in his fingers. If Sam didn’t want this, Al could lose him, lose the military, everything that kept him from falling completely to pieces.

Just as Sam seemed to realize Al was touching him, Al reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. It was battered, old, with water stains on the corners, a streak of dirt marring Al’s old address. “What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Do you see the sender and the return address?”  


  
“Yeah, they’re both you.” Sam replied after a quick glance.  


  
“Yup. Now look at the postal date.” He handed over the letter.  


  
“Nineteen seventy three.” For good measure, he read off the other writing on the envelope. “Do not open until January seventeenth, nineteen ninety five.” He looked up at Al. “Long time to hold an envelope. You’ve got another ten years to go. Why don’t you just open it now, since you’re the one who sent it?”  


  
Al took back the envelope. “It’s not for me, Sam, it’s ... for a friend. I can’t open it because I need to prove I knew about something in seventy three. If it’s sealed and dated by the post office, it makes it easier to prove.”

Sam looked at him out of the corner of his eye, as though debating whether or not Al was insane. “How do you know you’ll still be friends with this person in ninety five?”  


  
“I don’t. But I’ve got it on good authority.” Al gave Sam a wry smile.

“So why are you showing it to me?” Sam asked.  


  
“I don’t know, I ... Sam, do you believe in fate?”

Sam grinned. “That’s a hell of a thing to ask someone who wants to change history.”

Al’s smile turned from wry to bitter. “Yeah, I guess. Look, I should be getting home.”

Sam nodded. “Sorry I talked so much.”

“No, believe me, it was okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.” He tucked the letter back into his jacket pocket and stood up.

“Al?” Sam looked up at him. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that, Sam.” Al replied quietly. He walked out and closed the door behind him. Then he leaned against the wall in the hallway, took a deep breath, and tried not to cry.

After a while, Sam and Al were rarely seen out of each other’s presence at the compound. They worked together, bouncing ideas and dreams between them, ate together, and often marched at top speed across the compound in the middle of some debate, waving their arms to demonstrate their points.  


  
But one day, Al sat on Sam’s couch in the dark with an empty bottle on the floor and a nearly empty one in his hand, trying to shut off the pain. Sam came in, though the lack of light made it hard for Al to see what he was thinking. “I let myself in,” said Al.

“What happened?” Sam moved over to the couch and turned on the lamp, gently prying the bottle from Al’s hands.

Al squinted at the light, feeling old and exhausted. “They’re kicking me off the project, Sam.” He lifted the much-handled letter from his lap, held it up to the light. “We probably won’t be seeing each other again, at least for a long time. I screwed it up. I should have believed more...” he handed it over. “Just take it, all right? Go somewhere and read it. I owe you that much.”

Sam shook his head. “We’re going to fight this, Al. They can’t just do this to you. You can’t let them beat you like this!”

Al shook his head. “I’m tired, Sam. I’m just going to go home, go to bed, all right?” There was a loaded gun in his sock drawer. It would end the waiting. Maybe it would end the pain.

He closed his eyes, felt strong, warm hands on his shoulders, trying to hold him together. “What do I have to do to make you fight this?” Sam asked, fingers gripping Al’s arms painfully.

Drunken tears mapped his cheeks. It was no good. If there was one thing he’d learned about this Sam Beckett in the past few months, it was that Sam was straight as an arrow and utterly obsessed with Donna Elesee. It hurt so much to hold himself back, but he was not about to lose Sam’s friendship. And yet, in a few days his life here would be over anyway.

Slowly, gently, Al captured Sam’s chin with his fingers. He leaned in and kissed Sam on the lips. Sam’s mouth was hesitant, motionless, and Al could feel the tension beneath his fingers. But the heat, the delicious honey heat of Sam’s mouth was like a knife in Al’s vitals.

After a moment, he pulled back and studied Sam’s face. It was a mixture of shock, disgust, and an unreadable emotion. “I’m sorry,” Al said. “I, uh...”

Sam licked his lips, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. He swallowed hard. “A-Al?”

Al stood up suddenly, spilling the bottle of Scotch all over the carpet. “I’m sorry, I should go...”

Sam’s hands caught his, pulled him back a little. “Hold on, okay? Just hold on a second. That was a bit of a bomb shell.”

Al’s heart wasn’t sure whether to freeze or beat like a rabbit’s.

Sam stared at the glistening carpet for a long minute, and Al could almost see his mind whirling. “This wasn’t just the alcohol, was it?”

“No.”

Sam swallowed again, his fingers still unconsciously tracing Al’s hands. “I, ah, I think...” He took a deep breath. “Could you do that again?”

Al nearly fainted. He knelt on the wet carpet, feeling the alcohol soak through his knees. Then he pulled Sam closer, felt the silky weight of his hair through his fingers as Sam’s hot, sweet mouth opened beneath his. He parted Sam’s lips with his tongue, crying at how good it felt, how long it had been. Sam wiped the tears away with experimental fingers, laughing into Al’s mouth.

When they came up for air, Al murmured huskily, “I thought you, ah, only batted for one team.”

“So did I,” Sam chuckled. “But no one’s ever kissed me like that before, either.” The smile faded. “I thought I was just shy or slow; that I'd start really liking girls when I grew up. I guess it just never happened.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Al, I...”  


  
Al silenced him with a careful kiss on the cheek. “I know. Look, I swear I won’t go too fast, and I won’t scare you or hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want. Just tell me you’re willing to give it a try, all right?”

Sam looked down for a long, terrible moment. Then he leaned over like a thirteen year old boy on his first date and kissed Al on the lips, his fingers trembling a little at Al’s jaw. Al groaned and moved to bite Sam’s throat, feeling the younger man shiver in response. He traced a burning trail down Sam’s neck, opening his shirt and exploring the chest he had once known so well. As he bit Sam’s nipples gently, he was rewarded with a groan of pure pleasure and the sensation of Sam’s penis pressing urgently against his jeans. Al stripped off Sam’s shirt and pulled back, eager to look at his lover.

Sam looked like a young Adam, shameless and pure, golden muscles rising beneath soft skin. His hazel eyes showed eager desire with just a trace of nervousness or fear. This Sam was seventeen years younger than the one Al had known, but it was still unmistakably the same man. Knowing Sam’s previous history with women -- or lack thereof -- it was very likely that Al knew more about Sam’s body than Sam himself. He could map Sam’s body, instantly find the places that would make him cry out, arching his back in delicious agony; the places that would make him whimper and tense in denial to prolong the pleasure for another sweet moment.

He was suddenly aware that Sam was hyperventilating, and he realized once again that this was not the older man who had befriended him, initiated lovemaking, back in Vietnam. This was a shy, wonderful boy who was very much out of his depth. He looked up at Sam, questioning.  


  
Sam took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. “Um, Al?” His voice cracked a little. “I, um, I’m still...” He blushed magenta. “I’m still a virgin.”

Al already knew. He gave Sam a smile, forced himself to hide how much needed this. “Look, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want. Believe me, I’m as scared as you are.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “Yeah, but you’ve done this before.”

“Only with one other guy,” Al promised. “I just have a lot more experience with women.”

Sam seemed to retreat into himself. “It feels _right_. I think that’s what’s so scary.” He looked up, and Al found himself trapped by those hazel eyes. “I think I’m in love with you. I think I've been in love with you for a long time.” His face broke into that wonderful, closed-mouth grin and he leaned in for a kiss.

Somehow they managed to squirm out of their clothes and make it over to the bedroom. Al caught Sam’s shoulders, pulled him up to prevent him from falling backwards onto the bed. He gave Sam an evil, cocky grin. “Don’t move, all right?” He kissed Sam’s jaw, then began making his way down Sam’s chest, his belly, digging his sharp tongue into Sam’s belly button before moving lower. Sam’s penis was rock hard now, straining urgently upwards. Al debated his strategy for a split second, then took as much as he could into his hot, wet mouth. He heard Sam gasp and muffle a cry of pleasure, and chuckled. He’d almost forgotten Sam’s inability to keep quiet. This was going to be fun.

Al withdrew, resting his lips at the very tip of Sam’s penis, and raked his nails lightly across Sam’s inner thighs, watching the younger man shake with the effort of standing, of not pressing Al’s head down again. Al’s experienced fingers traced their way under Sam’s testicles, finding that sensitive spot behind them, then diving down to suck them into his mouth. He rose again, played his lips and mouth over the length of Sam’s penis, teasing and fulfilling, feeling Sam’s hands trembling centimeters from the back of his head. The knowledge of the power he held made Al’s own penis harden further. He gave Sam a light push with one finger and the man collapsed on the bed. Sam bit his lip until it bled in the attempt to hold back any sounds that would wake the neighbors.

“AAAAllllllll.....” Sam groaned, head thrown back, spine arched within an inch of snapping, hands clutching the blankets. Al was impressed by how well Sam was able to restrain himself from thrusting against these new pleasures. He slid his mouth slowly over Sam’s penis, sucking hard, and heard a sob of pure need as Sam exploded into his mouth. Al welcomed the flood, swallowing and sucking everything Sam had to offer. Once he had hated the taste. Now Sam tasted like home to him.  


  
The tension drained from Sam’s body, and he sprawled on the bed. For a few moments, he seemed lost in pleasure, oblivious. Then he raised himself on one elbow to look at Al. “How do I do this?”

Al had no idea what ‘this’ was, and had no desire to make Sam think he had to do anything he wasn’t ready for, but his own need was nearly blinding. “You’re the genius, you figure it out.”

Sam lifted Al’s left hand to his mouth and kissed the fingertips, darting his tongue out to lick and suck at them. Al clenched his teeth at the sensation. There was something so alien, so familiar about it. Whatever the era, Sam was one to take his time, patiently and calmly learning everything there was to know about Albert Calavicci. Al writhed and squirmed silently under the exploration as Sam carefully made his way across arm and shoulder, chest and nipple, ribs and belly, toes and heels. His long, unsure fingers traced each line and valley on Al’s body, nearly tickling with delicate pleasure. Each inch of flesh that the fingers awakened was sparked with the soft heat of Sam’s mouth, the nips of his teeth. Al’s entire body burned.  


  
Then Sam paused, sitting on Al’s lap and curling up to kiss Al. “Show me,” he murmured.  


  
Al didn’t need to be asked twice. “Just relax, all right? I’ll take it as slow as I can.” He grasped his penis in one hand and Sam’s hips in the other and set himself at his lover’s rosebud entry. Sam sank down and the two men groaned in unison. The ring of tight heat was almost too much for Al, and he had to stop for a second or he would come right then and there. He thrust in a little deeper, then began moving in and out as Sam eased into his thrusts.

He held Sam tight against him, feeling Sam’s penis hardening between their bellies as his own reacted to the pure, tight heat within Sam. He closed his eyes, seeing stars against the blackness. His mouth found Sam’s as his thrusts became more and more urgent. Finally he screamed silently into Sam’s mouth as the stars within him exploded. He nearly lost consciousness, and all he was aware of was Sam surrounding him, welcoming his seed, his soul. Sam drove down one more time, sending his own seed between their bellies, and Al came a second time, blacking out.  


  
An eternity later, Al awoke with his eyes blinded by sunlight and his arms full of warm Sam. “Are you okay?”

Sam rolled over and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

*****

Both men knew what would happen if the government discovered their secret. In public they continued as they always had: playing the part of close friends, while Al laid on the innuendo with every pretty women he passed. Privately, only Gooshie suspected the truth. Sam did bring Al home to meet his mother, brother, and sister. Tom was unforgiving at first, but Sam’s mother welcomed Al as part of the family at once.

Project Starbright came to a close, but most of the crew moved to Project Quantum Leap under Sam’s supervision. The years had honed Sam’s enthusiasm, his passion for solving problems. His drive kept Al alive, aware, just as Al’s cynicism and love kept Sam’s feet anchored to the ground. Most of the time.

“They’re pulling out!” Sam yelled, slamming the letter down on the work table. Al and Gooshie looked up with bleary eyes at the infuriated scientist. “The government is cutting their funding. They say we haven’t produced any results yet.”

Al rubbed his eyes and covered Sam’s fist with his hand. “So we’ll look elsewhere. Look on the bright side. We won’t have to worry about the military seizing the results.”  


  
“Are you kidding? We don’t have time to go fishing for funding at this stage in the program, even if anyone had the money the government does. We can’t let them do this!”  


  
“Look, it’s been a long day, all right?” Gooshie protested. “Let’s all get some sleep and we’ll figure it out in the morning, all right?”

“What morning is it, anyway?” Al asked. We’ve been in here for days, I’m starting to lose track.”

“Tuesday,” Ziggy’s calm voice came from the ceiling. “I don’t see how I can trust the data you upload when you can’t even remember what day it is.”

“I meant the date,” Al growled, not even looking up as Gooshie made his way to the door.  


  
“The seventeenth.”

Al’s heart dropped into his stomach. He forced a smile at Gooshie. “You go on, I’ll help Sam close up.” He put a restraining hand on Sam’s arm as Gooshie disappeared. “We need to talk.”

“I’m not in the mood. Look, how about you go down to Paco’s and grab us some beers, and I’ll meet you back at the house, okay?”

“You’re not going back to the house; you’re going to send me off and test the damn thing out.” He ignored Sam’s shocked expression. “Sit down.” He pulled out the old, battered envelope from his breast pocket and handed it over. “You know, I always told you about Beth and my girlfriends, but I never told you about the guy I was in love with before I met you.” He saw Sam restrain his exhausted impatience, ready to listen.

“I’d been in the POW camp for three years when they shoved this nutball in. He actually seemed happy to be there. They’d stolen his pants, shoes and jacket, but he was still wearing a clean white dress shirt and a pair of black boxers. In the jungle! He asked around until he found me, and then he said he’d come here just to find me. I thought the guards had hit him a little too hard on the way in, but the guy knew everything about me: my dad, the orphanage, the cockroach I’d kept as a pet, everything. Even when he explained who he was and how he knew it, I didn’t really believe him.

“We were friends for three years. We watched each other’s backs and took care of each other. And we were more than friends. He told me about stuff that was going to happen to me, and I never knew whether to believe him or not. Then, just after we were rescued, he wrote that letter and told me to mail it to myself and give it to you. Then he disappeared. Just blinked out right in front of me.” He saw Sam’s dubious expression. “Just open it, all right? And read it out loud, I haven’t read it yet.”

Sam carefully tore open the envelope and took out a large wad of folded papers. He saw two words written on the outside of the sheaf and swallowed hard. “That’s my name. And my handwriting. How...?”

“Just read it,” Al ordered.

“Dear Sam. If you’re reading this, then history has pretty much followed the path it did the first time. This is my last chance to set things right for everyone. Project Quantum Leap works. If you step into the accelerator, you will be transported back in time. But I did it too soon the first time. I just wanted to prove to everyone that it worked. I thought I was indestructible. I woke up trapped in someone else’s body, unable to remember _anything_. I didn’t know my last name. I didn’t know Al. I couldn’t even remember dad. Everything that made me myself was gone, and the government told Al not to tell me anything. For six years, Al, Gooshie, and the others stood by me as I leapt from person to person, unable to get home, unable to remember. I had to fix everyone else’s lives, and meanwhile my life back home was falling apart. I didn’t even know about it until it was too late, until they dismantled Ziggy and forced Al and Gooshie to shut down the project, trapping me in time.”

Sam swallowed hard and looked up at Al. “This is really me?” Without waiting for an answer, he looked down at the papers again. “A year before they closed the project, I’d learned to leap physically and control my leaps. After that, my memory started getting better. But I’d tried to fix Al’s life by telling Beth that he was alive, that Al was coming back to her. In the end, I only made things worse. So this is my last chance to set things right. I love Al. Now he loves me too. I’ve stopped myself from telling Beth the truth; when he comes home, she’ll be happily married. He knows what he’s coming home to, he just doesn’t believe it. But if I’ve managed this right, he’ll make you realize you love him before you go into that accelerator.

“In all my leaps, I was never able to save dad, or make him forgive me for not being there. And I destroyed myself and Al. I’m begging you, for Al’s sake, for your sake, don’t use the accelerator until you’ve perfected the retrieval program and tested everything. If you ignore this, you’ll kill Al and yourself. I will have failed. If you listen and wait, you can help hundreds of people without trapping yourself in time. Please, I want to come home. Sam Beckett.” Sam looked over the letter again, disbelief and shock plain on his tired face.

There was a long pause. Sam fingered the letter, rubbed his eyes. Then he looked up, seeming smaller and more tired than Al had ever seen him. “Al? Let’s go home. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning, all right?” He examined the signature, stroking it with a strange intimacy. Then he stuffed the letter into the envelope and put it in his back pocket. “Safe journey, Sam, wherever you are.” He slipped his arm through Al’s and they walked out together.

End.


End file.
